


White Stains

by arthurmarston



Series: One-shots [7]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bottom John Marston, Dom Arthur Morgan, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Humiliation, M/M, Mild Kink, Sub John Marston, Top Arthur Morgan, implied lifestyle D/s, johns a good boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 12:23:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19062613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthurmarston/pseuds/arthurmarston
Summary: John always wants to be a good boy and please Arthur. Always.Aka: Arthur forces John to walk around camp with semen inside of him and white stains on his clothes. :’)





	White Stains

“Oh, fuck!”

The words are loud and panted, hands clutching the tree trunk, bark digging into the skin and shredding at it. He’s always too loud. Always.

“Fuck, fuck...”

The panting gets louder, fingers nearly slipping as the sound of skin slapping against skin gets more pronounced.

“I’m so close... Christ, right there...”

If they had more restraint, they’d of been a bit further away from the bustling camp; nearly within earshot but carelessly screwing in the woods like animals. Rabid fucking animals. And John Marston is the worst between the two of them because he can’t help but scream like an animal being skinned alive.

“I’m gonna - I’m gonna-“

The words barely leave John’s mouth before he’s spilling all over himself, down his pant legs, onto the tree, onto his boots... everywhere. He’s panting again.

“My turn.”

It’s grunted against his ear, almost wicked in nature, and then he’s being pounded into mercilessly, thick cock slipping into him and thrusting so deeply inside of him that he’s surprised it’s not in his throat. His legs are trembling, opened belt jingling at his knees each time the man behind him shoves him against the tree trunk. And again. And again... he keeps going.

“Want me to fill your tight little hole? Hm?”

The words are filthy and yet they make him ache. He nods, desperate. Wants it. Needs it.

“Please. Please.”

Moments later, the larger man freezes, no longer fucking into him, cock to the hilt, and lets himself go deep inside the younger man, sharp nails clamping at the back of the John’s neck to hold him still.

“Arthur...” The younger cries out, wavering, as he feels the warm liquid exploding inside of him and filling him like it always does. He sighs out, heavy, hands finally loosening their grips on the bark. John can already feel the blisters forming on his palms from the splinters. He goes to lean off the tree, only to have Arthur push him back. He glances over his shoulder, eyes wide and face flustered.

“We’re gonna try something.” Arthur says, smirking, and gives John’s ass a slap.

He breathes in sharp, teeth catching his lower lip and biting at the tender flesh. He resists moaning.

Arthur’s hands go to John’s pants that are struggling to stay up at his knees and slowly starts dragging them up. “You’re gon’ keep all of me inside of you. Don’t wanna see a single drop slip out of that pretty little hole of yours. You got that?”

The younger man immediately tenses, swallowing hard as Arthur forces his pants to his waist as if they didn’t just screw and he’s not a heaping fucking mess. “But Arthur...”

“No. You’re gonna do exactly what I say.” His voice is stern, demanding... cold. He slips his cock back into his pants, buttons himself up like nothing happened.

John moans out at the idea of it. Being forced to walk into camp with Arthur’s semen inside of him, walls clenching. He tries to fight it again, despite already mentally agreeing. “But what if they see...”

“Then they’ll know you was a good boy for me, won’t they?” Arthur challenges, now spinning John around to button his pants for him and then reloop his belt and straighten the buckle. He frowns when he sees John’s covered himself from his orgasm.

“I...” He begins to say, as if to apologize, but Arthur silences him with a kiss to the lips. He savors it. Groans.

“Filthy, you are. Let’s go show you off.”

John is silent, doe eyed as ever, and follows quietly behind Arthur like the obedient dog he’s become. Only he’s walking real stiff now, each leg a heavy march in front of the other as he focuses on keeping his muscles clenched and tight. He’s already got white stains on his thighs and his boots - he doesn’t want more.

John can already feel eyes on him when they surface from the woods, Arthur a bit ahead of him like he always was supposed to be.

_“I always lead.” Arthur had said once, many months prior._

_“Yes, Sir.”_

John rarely pushes Arthur’s buttons these days. Only when he wants to be punished - and right now it’s starting to feel like this is a punishment for something else he must’ve done. Maybe he’d given too much lip earlier in the day.

“Oh! Are you boys okay? John?” Mary-Beth is the first to speak to them, confused as she looks John up and down.

He’s already embarrassed, swallowing hard and trying to find the words to respond with, but Arthur’s first.

“He’s okay. We was out by the water. Got a little shaken up. You know how he is with water.” Arthur’s words are said convincingly, as if true, but they certainly don’t make sense. Neither of them are wet. John’s covered in something that’s obviously not water. His face is flushed red.

Arthur’s expression is genuine - appears honest. Like they’d really been by the water.

Mary-Beth’s face contorts into further confusion but she laughs anyway. Doesn’t wanna question it, John figures. “Well, okay. Dutch was lookin’ for ya two. He’s in his tent.”

John can feel the warmth between his legs - he clenches harder. Silently curses himself. Hopes Arthur doesn’t know.

“Why, thank you for the information. We’ll go pay him a visit.” Arthur says charmingly, glancing back at John.

He trails Arthur to the Dutch’s tent, pausing as Arthur pokes his head into the canvas walls.

“Arthur! John! Come in. Sit.” Dutch’s voice is warm and welcoming and John feels a pit form in his stomach as he follows Arthur into the tent, eyes casting down to the floor as he shuffles in, lopsided with each step.

Dutch is already eyeing him from the edge of his bed.

Arthur immediately walks over and takes a seat on one of the chairs across from Dutch. He’s smiling.

John stands awkwardly with his back leaning against the canvas, eyes going to Arthur’s for permission to sit. But he’s not giving it. He clenches tighter.

Dutch furrows a brow, patting the seat beside him on his bed as if John hasn’t heard him. “Sit, my boy. Been lookin’ for you two. You both look awful.”

John shakes his head, laughs. Looks at Arthur as he responds to Dutch. “I’m okay standing.”

Arthur smiles even more smugly.

“No, nonsense. Sit.” Dutch argues.

“No, really-“

“Go sit on the bed, John.” Arthur orders now, though it’s hidden in a laugh - but John catches the demand and walks over moments later. He’s nervous. Doesn’t wanna make a mess on the bed. Feels like he will.

“What you got on yourself?” Dutch asks curiously now as he, of fucking course, notices the semen that’s starting to dry against his dark-colored pants.

“Food.” Is the only response John can think of, the man nearly holding his breath as he watches Dutch - his eyes scanning him over. He’s not convinced.

“Right.” Dutch hums out, again patting the spot beside him on his bed.

John sits, cautiously. He can feel some of the warm liquid when he sits. He’s not doing a good job so far. He glances over at Arthur, groaning lowly when he catches those blue eyes - like daggers. Cutting into him. He feels his pants getting tighter again. He’s turned on at the idea.

“I wanted to talk to you two about contributing more to the camp.” Dutch begins, warily. Arthur almost immediately sighs. “You’ve both been vanishing off more and more lately and I just wanted to know what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on, Dutch. We was just gettin’ along so well.” Arthur suggests, “Me and John would never forget about the camp and what you and Hosea got for us here.”

John nods. Feels a wetness spreading down the back of his thighs. His hearts hammering in his chest. It’s impossible.

Dutch clasps a hand onto John’s knee, startling the younger man and earning a chuckle from Dutch. “You two are my best men. I need you at the camp. Not wandering around for days at a time.”

John’s staring at the fingers kneading into his knee. He can feel Arthur’s stare.

“We understand.” John mutters, forcing himself to look up and at Dutch. His eyes are so intense. John wonders if he knows. He’s so close. He must reek of sex. He suddenly stands when he feels more of Arthur’s semen pooling between his legs. He glances back, heart sinking when he sees a slight dampness to the sheets.

It’s humiliating and degrading and turns him on all at the same time. He wants to run out of the tent but he won’t because he likes the staring. Won’t admit it, but he’s getting harder every second.

“Everything okay?” Dutch furrows his brows at the abruptness. John’s ears feel hot. He hears Arthur chuckle in the background but it’s fuzzy. Drowned out.

The semen is literally dripping down his leg and he’s not sure he can keep clenching. Or if it even matters anymore.

“Sore.” John says now, trying to rack his brain for any valid excuse. It’s a bad one. He wishes he could punch himself in the face for even saying it.

“ _Sit_.” Arthur says flatly and John’s chest tightens because, dammit, he’s going to listen whether he wants to or not.

He sits again - groans to himself when he feels the wetness again. It’s spreading. It’s obvious. It’s everywhere. He can feel it running down his knee, soaking into the bed. He looks at Arthur, face reddening by the second.

“How much do we owe the box?” Arthur asks now, taking Dutch’s eyes off John as the man ponders the question.

Dutch shakes his head, much like the way a father gives in to his children. “You don’t owe the box anything. Just... just keep up with it, alright?”

Arthur smiles. “Of course.”

“We will.” John echoes quietly under Arthur’s response, shifting on the bed in attempts to clamp himself shut between his thighs. He feels sticky - almost as if he’s wet himself but it’s thick and makes heat pool in his stomach because it’s Arthur’s hard-earned orgasm dripping from him.

“Now get out of here.” Dutch finally dismisses them and John nearly shoots up, staring at Arthur as if pleading and begging with him to excuse them.

“Sorry for the misunderstanding, Dutch. Won’t happen again.” Arthur assures as he stands, much more calmly, and begins to walk for the canvas. “We’ll be goin’.” He adds on, and it’s the exact signal John needs to begin waddling his way for the tent flap.

“Oh, and boys,” Dutch clears his throat and causes them both to glance back at him. “At least try to not be as obvious. You’re not fooling anyone. Certainly not me.”

John inhales sharply. Arthur laughs.

“And clean John up for _Christ’s sake._ ” Those are Dutch’s final words before John is tugged out by the wrists, the semen dripping out his pant legs all the while.

Arthur is already dragging him towards his tent. Though, this time, he’ll shove something in John’s mouth to shut him up and maybe please Dutch.

_Maybe._

**Author's Note:**

> So uhhhh I had this idea and now it has been born. I tried to keep this one short and sweet for those of us who sometimes just wanna read something quick and dirty. So hopefully this does that! 
> 
> I’ve been collecting some different writing prompts to explore in these shorter format stories so if you have an idea for a story prompt throw them at me! I love writing these two lmao 
> 
> And also... still haven’t found a replacement word for ‘cum’ that’s period appropriate so :L
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway - comments and kudos, as I always say, are appreciated!


End file.
